Smells like Home
by CheveronChick
Summary: Elves aren't meant to be away from nature, or deep in the tunnels of Moria. Its no wonder Legolas gets a little home sick.


Consciousness returned to him slowly, dragging him back into the darkness that was Moria reluctantly. Back to the occasional drips of water, the ache in his feet, the soft snores of the hobbits and the less than soft snorts from Gimli. The ranger longed to return sleep, he was exhausted and there was no telling when he would be able to rest like this again. Yet, he felt as if there was a reason he had woken. Even if there was no obvious reasons for his rousing.

Slowly he peaked his eyes open, prepared for them to be assaulted by the small fire they had lit or by the light of Gandalf's staff, but found himself pleasantly surprised. Gandalf appeared to be asleep, his unlit staff curled against him, and the fire only had small flickering flames over a bed of red embers. He didn't move from his curled position against the wall as he took in the rest of his company.

The hobbits were curled together in a hair filled jumped mess, like the worlds most unthreatening wolf pack. Gimli had fallen asleep still sitting with his head propped up on the hilt of his axe, and Boromir had his arms folded over his chest, his legs spread towards the fire and back firmly supported by one of the stone pillars.

Everything looked peaceful and quite.

The rangers gaze continued to roam his companions coming to rest on the back of their Elven lookout who was staring motionless into the darkened hall around them. Legoals' cloak was wrapped tightly around him as if fighting off a strong winter chill, and his back was hunched forward making him appear much smaller than he was. Aragorn frowned.

While it might have been slightly chilly in the dark stone city, it certainly wasn't cold enough to bother any elf, considering he had seen Legolas roam about as if it were a fine spring day with nothing more than a shirt in the middle of a harsh winter. It didn't make sense for him to be so tightly wrapped, as it would also hinder his ability to quickly fire his arrows if the need arose.

Something was defiantly off with his dear friend.

Rising to his feet as quality as he could, Aragorn picked his was carefully over the outstretched feet of the Fellowship and came to stand behind his friend. As he had suspected, the elf gave no indication of his presence, meaning he already knew who it was and felt no need to shift his position to double check.

Had Legolas been anyone else he might have been off-put by the lack of greeting, but he had long ago grown accustomed to the Elfs silent demeanor. He talked less than normal as it was, but around so many unfamiliar faces it was a wonder he had spoken at all since they had left Rivendell.

When he had been a child and heard stories of the great warrior prince of Greenwood, he had pictured him as many things. But painfully shy, was never one of them.

Grunting at the protest his back made, Aragorn sank back down the grimy stone floor next to the Legolas, crossing his legs in front of him just as his friend had. Ahead of his stretched darkness, a seemingly unending darkness. It stood before him like a giant wall, undisturbed and unmoving. Well, as far as his human vision could tell anyways.

Turning his head to the side he glanced at his silent companion. Legolas' eyes stared straight forward, not shifting or moving from side to side like they normally did when he was searching for movement. His face seemed unnaturally pale, the only color coming from the orangey glow from the fire. And his hands grasped tightly against his cloak, keeping it wrapped around him and holding it in a way that only his head was showing.

So this is what had woken him.

"What do you see?" Aragorn asked, a common way for him to tell how his friend was feeling. What he saw depended on his mood, if he were to ask him that when he was feeling good and happy it was quit likely the elf would tell him about a particularly nice flower he was observing. If he were in a sour or angry mood, there was a high chance he wouldn't reply at all.

The elfs eyes stared straight ahead as he answered, his voice cold and quite, "Darkness. I see only darkness."

Aragorn nodded mutely, knowing trying to comfort him when he hadn`t displayed a need for it would only drive his friend farther away. So instead he decided to wait patiently until Legolas decided to tell him what was wrong. So together to two friends sat side by side and stared into the darkness for what Aragorn assumed was a few hours, before the elf was finally ready to speak.

"Its smells like home" Legolas whispered, nestling further into his cloak.

The realization hit him like a stone wall.

He had been so focused on making sure the hobbits were doing okay in the dark, stuffy tunnels that he had given no thought to how Legolas would be faring. He should have thought of this earlier. Elves didn't do well away from nature. They drew comfort and happiness from it, they were tied to as if it were a part of their very soul. Wood Elves most of all.

And here was the prince of the woodland realm, miles upon miles underground with not so much as a withering weed in sight.

Aragorn looked at his friend again and instead of finding the empty eyes he found sadness, a deep ache that made even his heart clench. The poor elf was suffering, how had he not noticed?

"Describe it to me" He instructed, smiling slightly when Legolas finally turned his surprised gaze upon him. "You said it smells like home, what does that smell like"

"Aragorn, you've been to my home. You know how the forest smells" At least he was talking now, even if it was only to uncooperative.

"That's true, I know how it smells to _me_ but how does it smell to _you_"

The elf blue eyes searched his for a moment, looking for any indication that he was making a joke he didn't understand. Aragorn only raised and expectant eyebrow in return. "Well" Legolas began, shifting a little so he was facing the ranger more, "Its smells like the first spring rain. When everything is light land fresh, and the very air seems joyful, when the trees and plants wake up from their winter sleep and finally their voices are heard again. Like the very air is alive with hope and happiness and laughter"

Aragorn closed his eyes, trying to forget about the enclosing darkness around them and his own discomfort with their situation and focus fully on the words his friend was saying.

"It smells like when all of the Merry Blossoms first bloom, filling the air with their sweetness, making the air almost taste like honey. And it smells like damp moss, still moist from the early spring mists. A crisp tart smell that cuts through the flowers sweet scent, but not so much as to be overpowering"

He knew the smells his friend was speaking of, he had always enjoyed Greenwood in the spring time. He knew the smells, yet, the way Legolas described them made them almost seem completely alien as well. It was amazing how things could change if seen through the eyes of another, especially if that other person was an elf.

"It smells a bit like wood smoke, from the celebration of the new season. Not a harsh, overpowering smoke, but more of a spice. And the berry's ripening, and the never changing earthly smell of the tree bark. It smells like all of that mixed together. It smells like home"

Clearly, Legolas had finished speaking and Aragorn opened his eyes again feeling more refreshed than he had from his sleep. He looked once more at his friend, and was pleasantly surprised to find he had uncoiled himself from his cloak, and had a small smile on his face.

Perhaps now Aragorn would tell him of the Rivendell scents that clung to his cloak. The same one's he he hadn't noticed until that moment.


End file.
